Kaleidoscope
by pinkaffinity
Summary: Makorra: They're full of color.
1. Orange

A huge, billowing burst of smoke rose up from the center of the ring. Spectators screamed and pushed through one another to escape, clawing to get out. It was chaos, pure and simple. The world was on fire, under fire.

And Korra danced above it all.

Mako watched as the flames exploded from her limbs, bright flashes of orange tracking through the night sky. Her fire reflected off the glass, illuminating the scene above. He climbed up the ladder to the upper part of the arena, Bolin behind him. Mako's head hung back as he climbed because he couldn't take his eyes off her. He could barely see a thing; all of the action was blurred through the color of the ceiling's glass, but he had to watch. He followed her colors as they streaked above, flying in so many places at once.

He had to watch.

"Be careful," he had said, knowing that she didn't need protection or luck or even him to help her in this fight. She had her courage and her strength and that was enough. Korra and Chief Beifong had already taken down a few of the Equalists, but he wasn't entirely sure what was happening. The airship was floating; he could see it through the huge hole open to the sky, so he could only assume that Amon was still alive. Korra was fighting Amon's right-hand man. Mako knew it was him because of the electricity burning down his kali sticks, the bright blue contrasting Korra's rain of fiery orange. But something felt off. Something was wrong, and he felt it deep in his gut.

Mako quickly clambered up the last end of the ladder and whipped around just as fast. His heart throbbed in his chest as he watched her above him. He clenched his fists.

"Mako…" Bolin said as Korra was thrown backwards, catching herself on the glass.

No, she could do it. She was Korra, and she'd beaten this guy before. She could do it again.

She kicked out at him, the orange of her fire soaring through the air as she lifted herself back up. Korra flew through the air, punching and jabbing and attacking like he knew she could. The colors burst from her, and a body hit the glass, slipping down off the roof. She'd done it.

He heard the sound before he saw anything:

_Craaaaaack._

His breath was forced out of his lungs as he gasped. And even though there was still yelling and fighting all around, the shattering of the glass was the loudest thing in the world.

Her scream pierced the air as she fell.

"No," he heard himself breathe. His heart pounded in his ears, and his stomach sank and he lurched forward, gripping the railing. He had to get to her, but he didn't know how and she was supposed to have been careful because that's what he told her to do and what if she died right in front of him all because he didn't even try and help her? Had he trusted in her too much? He felt Bolin's hand on his shoulder, tense and anxious and terrified.

Their world was on fire.

Korra fell into the smoke, her scream following her out of sight.

And she was gone.

He'd barely been able to process it when Chief Beifong soared down from the sky, her wrist cables reaching out into the smoke. Korra must have been able to latch onto it, because the next second, the two were swinging out over the ring, across to the other side of the arena. Korra landed hard, sliding across the floor.

He didn't hesitate because there was no time to do such a thing. He ran. Mako started running to her, to Korra. Sprinting. Because she was alive, and he'd thought for sure that she wasn't going to be. He'd thought she was gone, but there she was in front of him, closer, closer, closer, until his arms were wrapped around her, pulling her close to him. She was warm, trembling slightly under him. He put his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" he said.

"Me too!" Bolin said, throwing himself at them, squeezing them all together.

And it was okay. Korra was okay. And it wasn't until after they had held each other, after they were a team again, that Bolin seemed to be able to say the thing that hadn't passed once through Mako's mind.

"Wait… where's Asami?" he asked.

Not once.

x.x.x.x

x.x.x.x

a/n: I'M JUST SO OVERWHELMED WITH FEELS. SO I BLASTED THIS OUT. I KNOW IT'S NOT GOOD. SORRY I'M NOT SORRY.

Also, I'm counting this as my first short (under 1000 words) fic for my Makorra color series. YEAH.

KORRA IS BRYKE'S.


	2. Yellow

Korra had an audience today.

Mako and Asami sat close to each other, fingers laced together as they watched her bend. Bolin sat nearby, cheering her on with Pabu's assistance.

She whirled through the spinning gates with the kids, feet flying. All four were a blur of yellow as they matched the current of the air. The three children danced with the wind, airborne and free, grins on their faces. Even Korra had risen off the ground. Even Korra looked happy. All four of them matched in outfits and smiles.

It was strange seeing her airbend, seeing her light and carefree, even if it was for only a moment. With the weight of the world on her shoulders it took a lot of strength to smile. She was so strong, so brave, so selfless. Korra spun out with a gust of wind, and her lips curled up as she landed and bowed for her audience. She laughed as Bolin applauded her. Her grin was beautiful, and with the sun shining down on them, Korra truly glowed.

Asami squeezed Mako's hand. "Wow. She's amazing, isn't she?"

Mako stared at the airbenders. The three kids surrounded Korra, clinging and hugging on the bright yellow fabric of her clothes, proud and inspired and trusting. Korra hugged them back, and from across the way, tangled in the children's arms, she looked at Mako. And she looked at Asami. And she looked at Mako and Asami, hands held tight. And still she smiled, still she was beautiful, still she was happy in spite of everything, in spite of him.

The realization hurt, mostly because he never thought it would happen.

She'd let him go.

After all of his complaining about her jealousy and all the confusion and pain they'd been through, she'd let him go. True, she'd put her feelings aside when they all moved to the island, but she'd still harbored them deep inside. But now? They were gone. He saw it in her eyes.

He didn't want that though. He couldn't let that happen.

Because when he closed his eyes, he still remembered their secret; he still remembered the taste and feel of Korra on his lips, hot and burning like the yellow sun above.

He gently let go of Asami's hand.

"Yeah, she is."

x.x.x.x

x.x.x.x

a/n: I DON'T EVEN KNOW. MY EPISODE SEVEN FEELS. AKJSDLF;JAKLSD;


	3. Purple

"Purple"

The bruise was many colors, purple and blue and black, but it was mostly purple. It was dark against the skin below his eye, dark underneath Korra's fingertips, dark even though the sun was setting and the sky was losing its brightness.

"This is what happens when I leave. You get hurt," she whispered. Mako firmly held her waist as she raised herself up on her toes and kissed the discoloration with a flitting breath. "Maybe I shouldn't leave you alone again."

"Maybe you shouldn't," he said, knowing that she would anyway. It didn't matter what he said. But still, she was here now and she was his. He tilted his head down and his lips pressed against the base of her throat. He sucked lightly, his bottom lip dragging across her skin as he moved his kisses higher, up to her jaw, her ear. He bit down softly on the lobe.

"I missed you," she said, turning her face into his and running one hand through his soft, black hair. The other rested on his hip.

"I missed you, too," he mumbled into her hair.

"I can tell." Her hand had drifted down, brushing against his pants, feeling him hard underneath. She pressed her hand closer, and he tilted his face away from her, a quiet blush rising on his cheeks.

"Sorry. You just got back. You're tired. I'm sure you don't want to—"

"Don't apologize," she said. She caught his mouth with her lips and smiled into the kiss before she spoke again. "We've exchanged enough of those in our lives already." Korra pushed him back, farther, farther, until he was pressed hard against the wall, and she crushed herself against him. There was no space between them and why should there be? Her fingers ran up his skin underneath his shirt, and she felt the muscles, tight and defined; an anticipating wave rushed through her, collecting down deep.

Slowly her hands raised his shirt up, sliding smoothly up his abdomen, over his chest, until she held the worn, white tank top in her hands. Her eyes raked over his body, and she ran one finger, slow and teasing, from the hollow of his neck down, down, down… He wanted to drink her in, and his lips covered hers yet again. He pressed himself against her and laid a hand on her waist, tugging at her clothes. She lifted her shirt over her head between kisses, and he touched her skin softly, admiring its color and warmth. His fingers glided over her back, appreciating the muscles and bones and strength she held there, the strength that only he knew. He unhooked her brassiere, and it fell to the floor. Her nipples were hard.

He ran his thumb over one of them, and she released the tiniest of noises. Her breast filled his hand, and she leaned into him, letting him touch her because it had been so long, too long. Her eyes urged him, and he felt her longing, her burning. She needed to be touched. She needed to be put together again.

So did he.

She guided his other hand a bit lower, and it reached down, fingering the band of underwear beneath her pants. He caught her impatient sigh with his mouth and let her yank her own bottoms down. She shimmied them off her hips to the ground. They barely made a sound as they hit the wood. All they could hear was their breath and all they could feel was the pounding of their hearts, beating together, pressed together. So close. He felt her trembling, or maybe that was him? It burned. They burned.

Mako inhaled her, and he held her face in his hands and he stared at her, into her. She did not look away from him. Her eyes were big and blue and beautiful, and he felt the need to memorize their freckles. It was always like this, like they were running out of time; the stories they sang when the lights dimmed were quick and wanting, and there were no answers to their questions.

Korra gasped as he lifted her up, gripping her naked thighs, holding her close to him, feeling her fully in his hands. Her arms wound their way around his neck, and her tongue was forceful as it pressed against his, wanting to explore him, wanting him.

In a way, they were indeed running out of time, and they already dreaded their next parting even though they had just been reunited. They lingered on the perfect edges of eternity, yet they were stuck in single moments, clips of life together that they clung to. And even these moments were not always perfect. They pushed and pulled each other like the tide, raging and laughing and smothering each other with a brand of passion that they'd never been able to escape. When Korra had left, she had left him standing angry and alone, the dregs of their latest argument pressing on his conscience. But she came back needing. Pushing, pulling. Like always.

Mako stumbled forward, balancing her weight in his arms, and lifted her onto their table. He breathed onto her neck, kissed her forehead, and slid one hand down the slow curve of her side, lingering on her hips. She toyed with his waistband, slipping her fingers just inside and sliding them back and forth over his skin. She always enjoyed teasing and tempting and making him beg. He gripped the table as her hand lowered even further inside and she grazed him with her fingertips. He pulled his bottoms off and kicked them to the side to allow easier access.

Her fingers were determined to taunt him, and they began their path above his navel. They tracked down his skin, further down where his coarse hair began, and even further, and slowly yet firmly her fingers grasped him, hot and fully erect. He shook his head, and she released.

He kneeled in front of her then, in front of his beautiful and glorious Avatar, and pressed his lips on the inside of her leg. She did not move for she knew what was coming. She let him take the reins, if only for a moment, and she let him take her knees in his hands and she let him spread her. The air was cool. She expected the trail of kisses leading up her thigh, slower and wetter as he approached. Her breath was heavy yet even until it caught in her throat, thick and heavy, when his lips landed right where he knew she was aching.

His tongue reached out, and he tasted her in his mouth, sweet and wet, and she could not control the shudder that racked her body when his tongue flicked across her clit. She instinctively grabbed his shoulders and dug her fingernails into his skin, but she didn't want it this way; he could tell.

"Up," she demanded, not wasting any time because it wasn't something they had.

He obeyed, stood, and pressed his mouth against hers, letting her tongue push inside his mouth. She slicked it over his smoothly, and his fingers tangled up in her hair. She scooted down on the table, moved even closer to him, and her legs wrapped around his waist. He felt her against his tip, slick and ready, and he slid himself inside her. She felt familiar, like there was no rush, but he pushed his hips forward because he needed to be closer, closer.

He'd missed her.

That was the true ache he'd been feeling, the real hurt. He had missed her.

Her breath tumbled into his mouth as she moaned, their rhythm slow and warm and wanting. The table shook as they moved. He liked it slow. It was Korra who increased the pace as she rocked into him and he fell into her and they were one in this moment. Pushing, pulling. Like always, like always. Burning and fast. When would she have to leave again?

It began to end as quickly as it had begun.

Her breaths were sharp and his were low. Her legs gripped him tighter, and he knew she was ready, he knew she was near. He felt her fluttering against him, and he felt her tighten as she got closer, closer, closer and she was coming silently, her back locked as she screamed voicelessly. He still pushed, pulled.

She fell against him, and he pulled her to him tightly, pressing her breasts against his chest, damp with sweat. He did not change the rhythm, for he was already feeling the explosion rising up inside him.

Pushing, pulling.

Near.

His eyes snapped open as he came, and they drank in the purple of the sky seeping in from the window behind them.

All they could hear was their panting. All they could feel was each other.

They embraced as they fell back down to earth, bodies as one, sticky and hot and it didn't really matter, did it? She was finally back, finally here, and he didn't want to let go. He didn't want to, but he knew he had to. He pressed his forehead against hers and looked in her eyes. She put her hands on the side of his face, lightly touching his bruise yet again. He flinched once before he settled under her touch. He did not want to let her go.

"Try not to get hurt next time I leave," she said. "I don't like when people hurt you."

She just didn't know how much she hurt him when she left.

It was a bruise she could not see.

That purple was hidden.

x.x.x.x

a/n: First time writing smut. Sorry? ^^;


	4. Blue

It was easy to lose herself in it, to lose herself in the blue.

Korra stood in the sea, the water lapping at her waist, the element comforting and familiar and fresh. She stared at it deeply, absorbing the scent and the feel and the color and tuning out the rest of the world. She couldn't help it. She couldn't help but lose herself in the sea. It was mesmerizing and unknown and perfect.

The blues of home were deep and rich, but they weren't warm in any way. They were the cold, mean blues of the Water Tribes, of the South Pole, of the vicious ocean that could kill if you let it take you under. The ocean at home was cold and unwelcoming. It was icy. Dark.

Here was different. The blue was different.

It was aquamarine, teal, turquoise. Different.

Bright blues swirled together to make one, mixing in with bits of green in some sections. The color stretched across to the horizon, pulling her in with its want and desire and life. The water was warm. And it was blue. Sometimes there would be a huge patch of a single shade before it blended in with the rest, and she wanted to swim there, to touch the blue with her skin. She didn't understand why the ocean did that, why it split into separate hues. Maybe Mako would know more about it.

"Hey, Mako, why are there patches in the water?" she asked, her eyes still poised out. "…Mako?" She turned, her fingers skimming the top of the water as she moved. But she couldn't see him. …He'd been right there. She'd heard him. she'd felt him. Where was he? "Mako!"

No response.

A horrible twisting in her stomach made her hold her breath involuntarily, and the idea spread in her mind, thick and mean. Her heart pounded.

He was under the water.

He was drowning, dying.

But he'd been right there. _Right there_. He wasn't a child; he wasn't weak; she knew he could swim. Wouldn't she have heard him go under? Wasn't there supposed to be screaming or flailing or something before a person drowned? She hadn't been paying attention though. Not at all. She'd been in her world, lost in her own world.

Korra started bending before she started breathing. She pushed massive waves behind her as she leapt through the water, searching for him. Her eyes roved, catching every shadow, every floating piece of algae, but she kept telling herself that she'd already lost him. She'd lost him to the blue.

_No. _

Another effort pulled a section to her, revealing the top of Mako's head. She ran, and the sea splashed and foamed around her but she didn't care, she didn't. She nearly fell when she grabbed him by his bare shoulders, ripping his body up from the ocean.

He looked surprised to see her, his eyes wide and intense, though he did not look as surprised as she felt to see him conscious and whole and beautiful, his dark hair dripping down his forehead. He started to laugh.

Korra scowled. "Mako, what's your problem?"

He rubbed his eyes, still smiling. "What do you mean? I was just holding my breath underwater. Trying to get as good as you." He looked at her then, and smirked a little.

"Don't do that again, okay?"

"Wait, did you think… I can't believe it! After all this time, after all the pranks you and Bolin have pulled on me—I finally tricked you!" He smiled again, and usually that eased her anger, but not this time.

"That wasn't _funny_, Mako!" she yelled. She pushed him, hands pressed on his chest. He stumbled in the water, but easily regained his balance so he could shove her back. She tried to force him back again, but he'd grabbed onto her this time. They went back together, holding and pushing and falling into the shallows, the sandy ocean floor catching them easily and cradling their impact. They sat still, together. The waves were gentle.

Mako burst into laughter, and Korra couldn't help herself. She started to laugh too.

His hands lingered on her waist, and she sat, straddling his lap, staring down as he looked up. Their foreheads were pressed together. Closer. Korra's knees dug into the wet, grating sand. Mako was happy and bright and there, right there, just like he'd always been. There was sand in his hair. She touched his face. There. Another wave crashed against them, and he held her tight. But her expression grew serious again as she remembered those terrifying moments when he wasn't there.

"You really scared me, Mako," she said softly, her voice barely heard over the sounds of the sea. He seemed to feel her fear then, residual but real.

"I'm sorry."

"I've already almost lost you so many times," she continued. "I can't… I won't lose you again."

His kiss then was slow and steady, like the sea. His lips were on hers, hot and perfect, and his fingers slowly moving up the back of her neck, knotting themselves in her wet hair. Her head tilted as she pressed herself harder against him, her mouth tasting his.

She couldn't… she wouldn't…

Her tongue moved without hesitation, lining his bottom lip, tasting the ocean's salt that still clung to him, tasting Mako. His mouth opened automatically, letting her tongue enter. He pulled her closer, sucking and drinking and breathing her in. She felt as if they couldn't possibly be nearer, but she wanted it. She wanted skin on skin, breath to breath. She wanted him because the fear was still there, deep down.

She could still lose him.

Mako was the one who ended the kiss, biting at her lip as he moved away.

"You won't," he said matter-of-factly. And for some reason, those burning words were all she needed. She leaned in again, kissing him hard and fierce, pushing him back into the sand, and he embraced her. They fit together perfectly.

The tide rolled over them, and they were lost.

Lost in each other.

Lost in the blue.

x.x.x.x

x.x.x.x

a/n: LO-FUCKING-L. COMBINING REQUESTED COLORS BECAUSE I'M A BITCH. THEY'RE ALL SO SIMILAR, GUYS. ALSO. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS. I CAN'T EVEN. I DON'T KNOW. OH WELL.


	5. Red

He'd heard the phrase before, of course, but he'd never truly experienced it. He'd never "seen red". Not until now.

Obviously he'd been angry before. He'd been angry many times in his life, but he always kept himself in check. He tried to stay calm when he was mad, because there were things that could be said or things that could be done that he knew he would want to take back after the fact. Just because he demonstrated some self-control on a regular basis did not mean that he could not be angry. He kept it hidden, but it was there, bubbling below the surface, begging to become realized.

He'd been angry with Hiroshi when he discovered who he really was, when he discovered all the lies and deceit that he had wrapped himself up in to hide from Asami and Mako and the world his true loyalties.

He'd been angry with Bolin whenever he was childish or immature or ran into trouble without thinking of the consequences wrought upon the two of them. It had taken a long time for Mako to forgive Bolin for running off with the Triple Threats and scaring him so much, after all they'd been through.

And he'd been angry with Korra. Many times. It was always really easy for him to be angry with her, with her stubbornness and her arguments, with her presence and her strength and her ability to leave him speechless (even if it was her lips on his that had done the silencing). He was angry when he'd touched her hand and helped her into the Satomobile, intending a friendly gesture, but knowing it was something more when she smiled at him and called him a gentleman and he had this warm feeling in his chest that he knew should not be there. He'd been angry with her a lot. She drove him crazy, and part of him thought that she seemed to relish that about their strange relationship and all the ups and downs and wins and losses they'd experienced.

When Tenzin and Beifong came and broke them out of jail, his eyes had searched for her, combing through the darkness to see. He'd wanted to tell her that he was glad she listened to him this time, listened to him for once. Because it all turned out okay.

"Where's Korra?" Bolin had asked, voicing Mako's thoughts.

The empty, shifting look in Tenzin's weary eyes was all that he needed, and he was angry again. Angry that she wasn't there. Angry with whoever had taken her. But he did not see red. Not then.

When they'd returned to the island, he mounted Naga and rode off alone, using clues and Naga's senses to search for her, to search for Korra. Everyone told him to wait and be patient, but maybe he didn't have as much self-control as he always assumed. Maybe he didn't care. He was angry with them for trying to stop him, angry that they were trying to make him see reason. But he didn't see red then, not yet.

He saw red when he found her body, crumpled on the floor. He felt it now, something beyond anger: rage.

He sprinted across the wide room and slid on his knees to her because he couldn't get to her fast enough and he was so furious. He reached out to her arms, shaking her lightly, but her body remained limp, her eyes closed. He saw her then, he really saw her. He saw what had been done to her.

He first noticed the dark scabs on her face, the thin cuts that had healed days before. But there were other cuts, red ones. Dried blood, scary, dark, and red, had dripped down to her chin where it collected, having tracked a path down her neck. A huge, gaping hole had been made in her shirt, and her side was open, wounded, bleeding, warm. Her shirt was soaked in bright red. Hesitantly, he reached out and pressed his hand against the area. It was so fresh. Every area of her body seemed to have been attacked, been tortured. Bruises, cuts, wounds. Red.

He knew he was getting her blood on him, but he didn't care. He lifted her up slightly from the ground and pulled her close. Her body moved in an unnatural way, but no, she was alive. She was. She had to be. Her head fell against his shoulder and he held her there, whispering against her.

"Wake up, Korra. Please, wake up." He heard his voice, weak and afraid and furious and red.

She did not respond.

She did not wake.

Maybe it was because she wasn't listening to him again, just like always. Maybe it was because he'd lost control. He didn't know why it happened, but he realized something:

He was angry at many people.

But he was angriest at himself.

He was mad at himself for being dishonest with Asami, and hiding things from her that should have been revealed long ago. He was mad at himself for not being there for Korra, all those times that she needed the weight of the world lifted off her shoulders, even if it was just for a moment of rest. He'd seen glimpses of that pain, small reveals that she tried to keep hidden, and he just let her hide them. And he was mad at himself for letting Korra go, for letting her suffer and watch him be with Asami, for being mad at her when she just wanted someone to love her. He was mad that he'd never told her how much he really did…

How much he really did love her.

With one hand, he pulled his scarf off his neck and balled it up on the floor. He gently lowered Korra again, resting her head on the makeshift pillow. His breathing was rough and painful and he didn't know what to do anymore. He didn't know who to blame. He didn't know what was going to happen.

He stood and saw the red on his hands.

He saw red.

x.x.x.x

a/n: Oops? Not the best, I know, and kinda OOC but I wrote it an hour. Whatever. And hey, Mako, your Zuko is showing. OH WELL. I'M STILL DROWNING IN MY FEELS. LOOK AT ALL THE FUCKS I GIVE.


	6. Green

She was restless, and Mako knew this. He'd been watching her for two days now. He knew.

But still it unnerved him when he watched Korra walk alone toward the forest, rubbing the muscles in her neck, trying to take her pain away. He watched as the fingers of her other hand ran across the bark of a tree, and he watched as she looked around and watched as she disappeared into the shadows. She, however, had not seen him watching her.

So he followed.

He'd been keeping an eye on her ever since that night, since they'd found her cold and broken and alone save Naga. They took her home so she could recover before they planned their next move. Mako had carried her to her room and laid her down on her bed, and she'd exploded with angry protestations about how she had no time for sleeping and she needed to figure out what to do and why wouldn't they let her get up? Mako himself had volunteered to wait until she fell asleep, to make sure she wasn't going to bolt up and hurt herself.

That first night he would go past her room every hour and peek in, just to make sure she wasn't having any nightmares. In the morning, he walked with Pema as she brought down a bowl of hot broth, so he could see how she was improving. He sat in the room when she finally had recovered enough energy to heal her cuts with waterbending; he didn't know where else to go.

He didn't know why he felt like he had to watch her now. But he did.

So he searched for her in the forest now, following her easy tracks. He stumbled and tripped over tree roots but he kept going because he had to keep an eye on her now. His heart dropped when he came to a clearing in the forest, when he stepped into the warm green light that fell from the sky. His stomach churned.

He found her lying motionless on the ground.

"Korra!" he yelled as he rushed forward.

She turned her head, perfectly (or maybe not so perfectly) fine. "Mako?"

"I thought—" He stopped, his hand rising up to press on his chest, rising up to still his heart. He exhaled slowly and shook his head at Korra's carelessness and his foolishness, shook out the bad thoughts, the disturbing images that haunted him now. "Never mind."

Korra turned her head back up. "Look," she said softly, pointing upward. He glanced up, following the line of her finger, and saw the canopy of leaves overhead, casting the green over her, over him. He felt his heart beginning to calm, and his eyes drifted back down to Korra. He sat next to her and watched her as she watched the green above. His eyes stayed fixed on her face, on her eyes bright and wide, on her mouth, slightly open, on her fading scars that marked her pain. He had to keep an eye on her.

"There aren't any trees like these back home," she blurted out, folding her hands over her stomach. "Back in the South Pole." Mako nodded, but she wasn't looking at him. "I really like them. At first it was too much, too green. Like it hurt my eyes or something." A leaf tumbled down, and she caught it easily. She held it over her face and blew out with her mouth, her only form of airbending. "But I really started to love them, green and all."

He didn't know what to say. His idle fingers found a stick on the ground, and he started absently scratching shapes into the dirt. Korra continued unprompted.

"At first I'd been worried that I wasn't ever gonna see them again. That I would be stuck in that metal box forever." Her voice was distant, and he knew that she was back there. Back in that basement, back inside the cold prison, her memories lurching forward into her mind yet again. He saw her eyes shifting, catching the green light that snuck through the canopy.

Mako scribbled. He'd been in jail before, and this time around, he knew he'd get out. But that first time had made an imprint on his memory. He was fourteen and terrified he'd never get back to Bolin, that something awful would happen to him if Mako wasn't keeping an eye out for him. He often got into trouble when Mako wasn't around. Bolin had needed him.

But this time, he'd kept his cool. Bolin was in the cell with him; Asami was somewhere down the hall. They were safe, so Mako didn't have to worry. Bolin was fine. Asami was fine. He was fine.

He was that is, until he discovered that Korra wasn't fine.

Then he wasn't fine either.

Korra's fingers were tracing over the scabs on her arms and shoulders and face, checking their status. Mako had to look away, away from her and her pain. So he looked up as the leaves rustled. Flickers of light fell through onto him. It was very green. He glanced back. Korra looked lost now, because while her body was here, her mind was not.

"I'm sorry, Korra," he said, tossing the stick to the side and resting his hands in his lap.

She turned. "For what?"

"For this!" He gestured to her, to her scratches that he could see and the nightmares that he could not, waving his hand wildly.

"There's nothing you could have done," she said simply, laying her arms at her sides.

He gritted his teeth and turned back away, crossing his arms. He shouldn't have let her out of his sight. He shouldn't have convinced her to not attack Tarrlok even though he knew he'd been right to but no. If she had come with them then he could have kept an eye on her. She should have come with them, with him. She wouldn't have gotten hurt. She would have been safe, but no, no, no. He'd let her go.

He'd thought she was invincible. He'd thought she was strong and fierce and the Avatar. And she was. But he'd thought she could always handle herself—and she'd made it seem like she could. He'd never imagined having to worry about her too but he did. He did.

And he hadn't but he should have, and he didn't but he needed to, always, but he hadn't seen it, not until he'd been afraid, not until now. Because when his eyes flicked back at her now, and he looked at her (really looked at her), he saw what he had been missing this whole time. He saw her there with her scratches and her scars, with knees bent up awkwardly and her hair in the dirt, he saw her tense muscles and her blue eyes poised up, empty and sad because even though she insisted she was fine, there was something she had lost. Something unnamable and untraceable and gone forever. And he saw her, saw Korra.

She was just a girl.

She was just Korra.

"I'm healing," she said. "There's nothing you can do." And he heard it then in her voice, saw it in her eyes, felt the pain, sensed that breathless desire for him to just leave because she couldn't take it anymore. He knew that feeling, he knew it.

He'd seen it in Asami's green eyes too, the morning after it, after everything. She'd confronted him about the kiss that he'd kept secret, the secret he'd never meant to keep. She came to him, tired and beaten, knowing and ready. Determined. She told him that she was better than this, that she couldn't deal, that she wished she could get over it, that she couldn't possibly. She'd said it was better for everyone this way. Because of everything that had happened, because of everything that was going on, because of everything that was waiting for them in the shadows of their fate.

"It's better for everyone. For you, for me…" she'd said, her voice trailing off. "For Korra."

Asami's green eyes had held pain and envy then. They were still beautiful.

And Korra's had that pain, yes, but they also had hope. Expectation.

Mako didn't know what was going to happen. He just didn't. Not anymore. He didn't have a plan. He didn't know anything. "There's nothing you can do," she'd said. But she was wrong (so wrong), and he knew that it would be slow and hesitant and terrifying and she might have already moved on and this was the worst time to feel this way but he had to show her that he wanted to help, needed to help.

He wanted to keep an eye on her.

So he scooted closer, and lay down quietly next to her, slowly next to her. The ground was cold. And he reached out, reached for her. Their fingers met clumsily, bumping into each other, running over the creases in the other's hand until they were laced together. Until they were together.

All was quiet. All was still but the leaves and his heart.

Korra tightened her grip. He looked at her, just once, and saw her smiling, eyes softly closed.

Mako looked back up.

It was very green. Fresh and new and growing and beautiful and poisoned and perfect and green.


	7. Black

The world was slow and thick and filled to the brim, filled to bursting with darkness and stars. The stars winked and twirled through the black, bright little fires that burned above and shone down on the two of them. The dream was familiar.

Mako held her hands, held them tight, and they stood alone, suspended in the cosmos. He was warm, and his eyes were golden in the starlight. She couldn't help but smile at him; she was so glad he was here with her. Mako smiled back at her, tilting his head up, directing her gaze back to the stars. When Korra looked up again, it hurt. It hurt her eyes and it hurt her heart because the little fires started going out, and she watched the stars die and disappear, tiny screams reaching down to her for help. She looked back at Mako, but she couldn't see him anymore. She couldn't see anything anymore.

The stars had all died.

It was black.

He released her hands, and that familiar emptiness and pain in her stomach started clawing to get out again. She remembered with a start that the emptiness was called fear. The pain was guilt.

It made her feel like half a person.

"I can't see anything," she said to nobody.

"And why is that?"

"Mako, stop messing around. Give us some light."

"You know I can't," he said. She lit a fire between her palms, and stretched it out over the two of them. The shadows set in his eyes were cold. The golden tinge was missing. "It's your fault I can't bend."

The space cracked, the sound loud and painful and thunderous, and Mako fell, gasps of laughter trailing behind him. Korra's fire extinguished as she reached down, reached for him, reached for the apology that lingered on her tongue, but there was nothing there. So she reached harder and before she knew what was happening, she was tumbling down, tumbling through, tumbling alone in the black. She gripped herself because there was nothing else, and she screamed to the dark.

She fell quickly and she fell slowly.

The sky cracked again, and she heard the thunder this time, heard it breaking through her nightmare, and she was awake but not because she was still screaming, screaming into the dark.

"Korra?" She heard his voice next to her, even though she could not see him. No, she was awake. She was. She clapped a hand over her mouth, silencing herself, but her breath still fell out hot and scared between her fingers. "Korra?" he repeated, his voice strained and worried, but farther from her now. He must have been leaning over the side of the bed to turn the lamp on. She heard the flicking sound of a useless switch. "The power's out," he mumbled. His voice was closer now, calmer now. "Come here. It's fine."

She knew she should just firebend some light, but she couldn't, wouldn't, so she folded her legs up to her chest and closed her eyes, which changed nothing, really. She was surrounded by darkness either way. Mako was so far and so near and she tried to close herself up. She felt the bed shift as he scooted closer to her, and his hand drifted onto her leg first, right by her knee. He gave her a reassuring squeeze because yes, he was right there and yes, it was going to be okay.

Korra used to not be so, well, scared of the dark. She'd experienced pitch blackness back home a few times when there was a huge blizzard, with clouds so thick they ate the moon, the snow pouring down so heavily that nothing could be seen. She enjoyed it back then.

After her mother had extinguished the fire and tucked Korra into her bed, she'd sit up in her bed, amazed at how she could see nothing but black. She'd wave her hand in front of her face, wiggling her fingers right by her nose, and would laugh and laugh and laugh. Before her father could stop her, she'd scurry out from underneath her blankets and hide in different places, bumping her head and knocking her knees. Korra would make her parents guess where she was hiding, and they always guessed right, which just made her giggle more and made her that much easier to track through the darkness.

It used to be fun, free.

But then Amon came and invaded her life, invaded her thoughts, filled the mystery of darkness with fear, took (stole, ripped away) Mako's bending in front of her. That's when she began to fear it. That's when it started to press on her. Because she'd remember how she failed, how Amon came to her next, how he pressed on her spirit and how she closed her eyes and fell into darkness alone, only to have that inner light shine and break through and win the day.

It had been too late, though. Mako had become half of himself; he'd lost his fire. So she'd never forget. She'd never forgive herself.

When she closed her eyes, when she saw the black, pure and lonely, she remembered.

Her breathing was tight, and her heart pounded out a dull ache. "It was just a bad dream," she assured him, even though she knew it was not a dream, but a faded reality.

"What happened?" Mako asked, finding her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. He was there; hidden, but there.

"We were, well I dunno where, but we were under all these stars, and then you were falling, and I tried to catch you. I tried, but then I was falling too and I was alone and I couldn't find you and it was so scary. It was so dark and I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

"Korra?"

"It was my fault. It was all my fault. I can't believe I couldn't protect you. I'm so sorry."

His other hand drifted up, tapping the air lightly as he searched for her, reached for her face and he was there, warm fingers touching lightly on her cheek, unsure.

"Shhh... how many times do I have to tell you? It was not your fault."

Her hand rose up to meet him, and her fingers lay over his on her face. She tilted into his hand, and felt him, needed him. But it wasn't enough. She needed to forget that dream. Her hand trailed up his skin, running over the smooth muscles of his forearms, curving over his elbow. His upper arm was tense and so was his shoulder, and she reached for his face.

Her fingers trailed up to his ear first before tracking a path down his jawline and back up, pressing on his lips, their softness only encouraging her. Once she had it, once she knew where he was, where he really and truly was, she leaned forward, navigating the space blindly.

Her mouth pressed against his, hard and certain, because she was scared.

He mumbled against her. "Korra, not now."

"Please," she begged, because she had to know he was really there. She had to know that this wasn't another dream, that he wasn't going to fall away. So Korra kissed him a second time, her mouth opening up, sucking on his bottom lip, the tip of her tongue slowly sliding over the skin that she had tasted so many times but had to taste again and again. "I need you," she breathed, her words falling into his mouth, hot and ready. He swallowed them in one gulp.

When Mako finally kissed her back, his kiss was rough and wanting. He bit down on her lip, tugging it between his teeth until she sighed out her content, sighed because he was there and he was hers and she would not let him fall again. Their mouths moved together, fell together amidst the black. Korra could not say whether her eyes were open or closed.

So she sought him out, sought him in the darkness, and her lips trailed up his jawline to his ear, which she slid into her mouth. Her teeth grazed the skin lightly until it softened and she bit gently. She felt him turning his head into her in response, his lips wet now, and he pressed them against her throat. She exhaled. His mouth opened, and his tongue swirled on her skin, licking slowly and calmly, teasing her.

"Please," she begged again, and the breath that she realized she'd been holding fell from her lungs as he laid her down in their bed again, rolling on top of her.

His weight was familiar.

His lips covered hers once more, and his tongue slid inside her mouth, wanting and waiting. Hers glided out to meet his, and a shock rolled through her body when they touched, so natural and pure. He pressed into her, letting her support his weight, and she felt him, felt Mako, felt his soul. His taste wove into her mouth.

She could only feel, only hear, only taste and smell for she was blinded by the blackness.

Rain was pounding outside.

She inhaled him then, pressing her face into his shoulder. She sensed him, knew him, loved him, and that's why she could not let go of the anger that bubbled inside her. It was her fault, hers.

Her fingers reach up, combing through his hair until she latched on, tugging him closer. When she kissed him once more, she consumed his groan, low and steady. It made her shiver, and her body shook from her fingers to her toes to her groin. Her hips pushed up against him, and she felt his cock hardening beneath his underwear.

Her fingers found his waistband easily, and she slid both hands along his sides, hooking her thumbs around the worn material. She tugged down, and he shimmied, helping her remove them. When her hands moved back up, her fingers drifted over him, over his smooth tip, and he gasped.

He pushed her back down, and his hands slipped up to the old shirt of his that she had worn to sleep. His nails raked her sides, bumping over her ribcage as he lifted the shirt off her. She heard it being thrown to the floor, and his hands lingered on her face, fingertips softly pressing against her.

This was real. He was here. He was not falling from her this time.

She clung to him then, tasting him once more, her lips gentle and open. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulled him close to her because she would not let the darkness take him. She'd already let half of him go. It was her fault that his bending was gone, that the stars had screamed. Nothing would take the rest of him from her. She couldn't, she wouldn't. He was hers.

Leisurely, his touch slid down her cheek, his finger curving a path over her lips, down her neck, down her chest, down her abdomen, swirling around her stomach once before dipping again. He toyed with her waistband slowly, annoyingly, until she had to yank her own underwear off.

"Mako," she whined.

He laughed then, and it made her shiver; it made her cry.

His fingers walked down from her stomach once more, tickling her skin lightly until they encountered her patch of dark, coarse hair. He moved agilely then, cupping his hand down, his two fingers playful and teasing. One flicked over her clit, sending a shudder through her body, and then he was pressing down on her, seeking her where she wanted him and needed him. He was closer, closer, and he slipped one finger inside, stroking her, exploring her.

She cried out once more when his lips fell onto her chest, kissing the skin until it became soft, kissing until it became sensitive, and his tongue reached out, curling around her nipple as his finger curled inside her. He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, licking slightly. Her cry turned into a moan, and he slipped his finger back out of her again. With both hands, he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, holding her there, still and steady.

His breath was hot and it washed over her, the anticipation clawing at her, the burning growing and the need there and so very present, just like him.

All she saw was black.

She felt his cock between her thighs, and she felt her own aching, so she spread her legs, hitching them around him, pulling him close. It was very slow. He entered her, filled her, completed her, and it killed her because it was all her fault. How could she do this when he wasn't... when he didn't...

"Mako, wait," she mumbled, legs still wrapped tightly around him.

"What?" he breathed, barely. "What's wrong?"

"I need to know."

"What?"

Her voice trembled as she blurted it out, blurted the fear that had been hiding in the black: "Do you ever feel like half of yourself? You know... now?"

The pause was long.

"...I don't know..."

It was not the answer she had been seeking, but it was the answer he was going to give. Still, he pressed his hips against her, pushing deeper inside. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she moved with him, against him, slowly at first, then faster and faster, as if this was the first and last time.

"I do know one thing though," he said as he thrusted once more. She bit his shoulder and moaned against him, the precipice nearing, the edges closing in on her. His voice was gentle and firm, so confident and strong, a ghost in her ear:

"I'm whole when I'm with you."

It was black, but they were one in the darkness. He held her close and she felt everything. She felt herself lightening, flying, so near.

Lightning lit up the room, and she saw him then, saw him through the black. Mako. He was hers and he was complete, in spite of all they'd been through, in spite of everything. As was she.

So when the darkness flooded in again, it was okay.

For they fell into the black now, together, whole.


	8. Pink

Mako was nervous, and he didn't know why.

He shouldn't feel this way about her now; he shouldn't get these knots in his stomach thinking about her, but he did, he did. And even though he'd lived on Air Temple Island, his heart was racing as he walked up the steps that led to the set of buildings high up on the hill. The fingers that held the bouquet of pink flowers he had gotten for her as an afterthought were shaking. He felt like a boy. Foolish, ridiculous. He just couldn't help it, though.

He'd missed Korra so much.

After spending all that time together, those precious few days and those limited nights down in the South Pole when they had finally let all their walls down, having not seen her in so long was painful. Those days were almost a dream to him thinking about it now. His memory was clear, however, and he knew it hadn't been just a fantasy. It was real: walking around at night in the snow, listening to Korra share stories of her childhood, showing him all her favorite places, kissing in the dark. They'd held hands as they walked across the barren fields of snow and ice, wandering to nowhere because it didn't matter; they were together. They were warm. Pink. New.

It had been two weeks since they'd returned, and nearly that long since he'd seen her. It had been two weeks (only two weeks), and he knew this; he did.

But it felt like two years.

Korra was busy with her Avatar duties: training, meditation, meetings, interviews, and restoring bending whenever she got the chance. Mako had been busy too, going back to work at the power plant, fixing the arena up, helping Asami as she dealt with all the commotion and corruption of Future Industries.

Yes, he'd been busy as well, but he missed Korra. He knew it wasn't going to be like this forever, but he missed her. ...No, he didn't just miss her.

He craved her.

So it was no surprise that the first chance he had time to visit, he did just that, nerves twitching and stomach twisting.

Mako passed the training grounds and made the mistake of waving to the three kids; they rushed over to him excitedly with a big gust of wind. He was surprised Korra wasn't with them.

"Are those flowers?" Ikki asked as she peered behind his back, and Mako hesitantly held them out in front of him for her to see. "Flowers for Korra? Oh, they are soooooo pretty!" She stuck her face into the bouquet, and the little pink blossoms kissed her skin. "And they smell so good!"

"Can I eat them?" Meelo asked.

"Hyacinthus litwinowii," Jinora muttered as she eyed them. "Very nice choice."

Mako cleared his throat. "Um, where's Korra?"

"I think she's in her room," Jinora said, stepping back. "I'm not certain, though."

"Okay. Thanks."

He continued walking and watched as the kids hopped onto their air scooters and zoomed back to the training grounds. He stared down at the flowers again, now regretting his uncharacteristically impulsive decision to buy them. What if she didn't like flowers? What if she didn't like pink? He really didn't; maybe she didn't either. This was all a bad idea; maybe that's why he felt so nervous.

Or maybe it was because he was worried that she had changed her mind. That their time spent at the South Pole was a fluke, a mistake. That she had come back and realized that she couldn't do it after all.

The thought made him feel vaguely ill.

Mako entered the women's dormitories, stepping lightly down the hall to Korra's room. Her door was closed. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with anticipation before he slid the door open and closed it behind him.

He saw her there.

And he smiled.

Korra slept tangled up in her sheets, clearly so exhausted she hadn't even bothered to take her boots off. Her mouth hung open slightly, and a trickle of drool fell out of the corner of her mouth onto her pillow.

He smiled, yes, but his heart fell. So much for seeing her, holding her, loving her. She needed sleep, so he'd give her that, even if it meant disappointment for him.

He tip-toed forward and set the bouquet on her side table lightly, to be sure that she would not wake. He turned and watched her for a few brief moments, watched as her body rose and fell with her breath. He wanted nothing more than to curl up next to her, press his body against hers, let her sleep in his arms and his arms alone.

He shouldn't bother her, though. He should go.

So he turned to leave, resigning to another week, two weeks, three weeks without seeing her, without hearing her voice, without tasting her lips on his. She had to do her duty. And he had to do his.

His hand reached up to slide the door open again when he heard it, perfect and pure, and his stomach flipped:

"Mako?"

He turned, and Korra's eyes, slow and sleepy, brightened, moving straight to him. To him.

"Mako!" she repeated, scrambling to get out of the bed. The sheets that had tangled around her legs would not come untangled, and she fell to the floor with a crash and a groan.

"Korra!"

But before he could make a move to help her, she was clawing her way out of the sheets and hopping right back up, running, running to him. She leapt forward, and he grabbed her, stumbling back and resting her weight on his hipbones as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

She kissed him then. She kissed him hard, her lips pressing and sucking and giving and wanting. He held her tight and opened his mouth up to her. He swallowed her laughter.

Korra rested her forehead on his, and her hands played with his hair.

"Hi there," she said. She shifted to get a better look at him, leaning back slightly with her hands on the back of his neck.

She was blushing, with cheeks pink and perfect, and it made him feel warm and him made him feel alive.

"Hi," he said, holding her tighter. "Shouldn't you go back to sleep?"

She pressed her mouth to his again, her teeth grazing his bottom lip. "Only if you come with me."

It was an offer he couldn't refuse, so he carried her to the bed and laid her out gently before climbing in next to her. Their bodies intertwined, their limbs tangled, their foreheads pressed together. He closed his eyes and breathed her in.

Korra tilted her head back, gesturing towards the flowers. "Are those for me?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you," she said before claiming his lips once more. "I love them."

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

He wasn't sure how long they could lay together like this. He wasn't sure when he was going to be able to see her next. But it didn't really matter. Because they were together. They were here. They were warm.

Pink.

New.


End file.
